


Moonlight and Memories

by GretchenMaurice



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire, Wicked - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 08:52:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4385612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenMaurice/pseuds/GretchenMaurice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Glinda, on the night of the Wicked Witch's death. Inspired by a passage near the end of the book. (Moved over from my ff.net account)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight and Memories

**Author's Note:**

> “Lady Glinda had a bad night, a night of shakes and regret and pain; she guessed it was the early signs of gout from her rich diet. But she sat up half the night and lit a candle in a window, for reasons she couldn’t articulate. The moon passed overhead in its path from the Vinkus, and she felt its accusatory spotlight, and moved back from the tall windows.”  
> Wicked p.404

It was an ordinary night in Gillikin. From the looming depths of the Great Gillikin Forest in the north, to the treacherous glimmering of the Emerald City in the south, all seemed well in the most reputable province of Oz.

The succession of Munchkinland had yet to truly impact the country, if it ever really would. Some took pity and sympathy with their neighboring land, and struggled to sustain relationships. But most of the Lords and Ladies simply shook their heads and scoffed. Let those troublesome little Munchkins do what they wanted. They would be reliant on Oz soon enough. No one could stand against the Wizard, no, not even an entire nation. Reunification was inevitable.

Ballrooms swelled with music, bars dumped out young troublemakers and withered old failures alike. Underhand businesses were whispered in dark corners. At Shiz, the new generation was studying and playing, learning and loving, gaining a new perspective with which to stare wide-eyed at the world around them. They were beginning to think themselves clever, educated, important. But if past experiences had any say, they were wrong. The bright, shining school days were a falsity, a gem of imagined freedom and security before the truths of the world set in, and they realized they knew nothing, they still know nothing.

It was the way of the world, and it didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon. Not even secession and talk of civil wars, nor unexplained disasters of wind and dust, nor fallen leaders and rising strangers could change it.

And still the Lady Glinda could not fall asleep.

The blonde woman was nearing forty in age, though she tended to forget how old she was exactly. It didn’t quite seem to matter to her. She was old enough to take care of herself and others, yet not old enough to need to be taken care of. The months dragged and blurred together. Sometimes she would glance up and an entire season had gone by. Sometimes what seemed like years had only been a week or two.

She had grown restless in the past months. Even before the arrival of that strange little girl from—Kansas, was it?—things seemed to be moving in Oz. Many, many years ago, she would have been among those who laughed at the Munchkins’ efforts and ignored the implications of how the rest of the world would be affected. But she was not a young girl anymore, and she had learned how to view the world beyond her own little bubble. A certain green girl had taught her how.

Glinda turned to her other side, facing the window. She attempted to stifle the emerald that flooded her vision, but only managed in redirecting it. The Emerald City. That was where the poor Dorothy girl was headed. She would be safe, no doubt. The girl had an unusual knack for charming everyone she met. Still, the sorceress felt a twinge of guilt and fear. Try as she might, she had never forgotten who—or what—their dear old Wizard really was. For all her years of suppressing the memories, that fated trip, that spur of the moment adventure, that carefully calculated journey, stood out bright and clear from the past.

Glinda flipped so she was lying on her back, staring at the high ceiling. Her body ached. Her wrists and ankles felt strained, and her back could not find comfort in the soft mattress beneath her. Maybe the pain was what kept sleep away. Or perhaps it was because Sir Chuffery was away yet again. But Glinda just couldn’t tell such an outright lie, not even to herself. She did not need the comfort of another to fall asleep, had not needed it since a small, lumpy bed above the noisy kitchen of an inn…

With a sigh, she threw back her blankets and stood from the bed. Lurline, she was too old to fight like this. Let the memories come, then, if they were going to torture her so insistently.

Not for the first time, Glinda grieved for dear old Nessarose. She had spoken the truth when she told Elphie they were like sisters. Or they had been. They still visited from time to time, reliving old stories together, but their relation had grown distant and strained with the events that were sweeping Oz. Indeed, the charmed circle of friends at Shiz had grown up and apart these long years. They had taken on responsibilities as the ruling generation. Governing independent countries or governing tiny farms, it was all the same, really. Duty had taken them away from their school days, tearing them from the last tender ideals of youth. There was a small part of Glinda that wondered: was she grieving for Nessa, or for the lost connection to her memories of Shiz?

For Nessa had been the only one she was still in contact with. Avaric had married and continued being the idiot he was at school. Boq and Milla had a family and a farm and wanted nothing more than to keep to themselves and their peace and quiet. Crope had never been the same since hearing of Tibbett’s death, and hadn’t been seen or heard from in some time. Fiyero, dear old Fiyero, had been gone for many years, and now Nessa as well. And then there was Elphaba Thropp.

Even in the worst of circumstances, Glinda had delighted in seeing her old roommate again. The trip to Colwen Grounds for the memorial service had been spent in nervous excitement. Would she be there? She _had_ to be there. Would she apologize for leaving Glinda all those years ago? Would she finally explain why she had done it?

No, no she wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t. But Glinda found that she didn’t even need an explanation, nor an apology. She needed to see her old friend. How jealous she had been of Fiyero on that day so long ago! The idea that he had been the one to find Elphie, that he had worked his way back into her life.

But, Glinda reminded herself, she had been the first one to make her way through Elphaba’s walls. She had been the first person to make herself a little spot in the green girl’s heart—a spot of choice, not responsibility, like it was to her father and Nessarose—and there she stayed. Oh, it had taken her far too long to realize her feelings for her roommate, but once she had, she never forgot them.

Glinda did not cry when she saw her, although she thought she might. She bantered and she laughed, she tried to comfort the woman who had never accepted such a thing. But the reunion was not to last. What a terrible fate, to be torn apart yet again by something as insignificant as shoes. With a vicious, biting irony, Glinda remembered the way the two girls fought at Shiz, how Elphaba would complain about the blonde’s shoes being left all over the room, and how Glinda— _Ga_ linda—would leave them out just to spite her. How petty. How insignificant. How could this have happened to them?

But, she thought to herself, it wasn’t just the shoes. It was Nessarose. It was a memory and a promise. Perhaps, even, it was a symbol of the life she had given up when she didn’t return to Shiz.

It had been weeks since they had argued, yet the moment lay heavily on Glinda’s mind. The weight dragged on her, suffocating her, but she didn’t know how to get rid of it. She didn’t know how to find Elphie, nor how to make up with her if she did. Had it really been too long? Were they both so changed that they couldn’t go back to the relationship they had? Did their feelings for each other disappear?

No. Of all the unanswered questions, Glinda knew this much was true. She loved Elphaba still, more purely and fully than she had ever loved anything before.

Without really thinking about it, she pulled a candle from her drawer and lit it with a flourish of fingers. She opened the window and set it on the sill. The flame danced in the moonlight, and she shivered, though it had nothing to do with the weather. Perhaps she was coming down with something. Perhaps that something was bitter regret.

Oh, she had tried when they last met. It had been entirely too much for her to walk past Elphaba with her eyes turned away. She had been determined not to speak to the stubborn green woman, but she could feel herself slipping as they neared each other. Her old friend brushed past her…

***

And suddenly they were back at Shiz, stepping into their room. Green skin brushed pale, and Glinda shivered for an entirely new reason…

***

…and dark eyes looked up to meet blue, dancing with a fire that was unique only to her. The passion and drive that was so unexplainably _Elphaba_ …

***

…long, slender arms wrapped around her, holding her with tender sureness. A low, rough voice whispered in her ear, speaking sweet words of comfort. Words that she had heard before, but only sounded genuine from her Elphie…

***

…and she couldn’t sleep. The noises from the kitchen had been too loud, and the silence left in their wake was even more disturbing. She shivered. The bed was lumpy, uncomfortable, but it didn’t matter. The blanket was thin and altogether useless, but that didn’t matter either. She had no idea what was happening, what was waiting for them, why they were doing this anyway. But Elphaba had needed her, had told her in her own little way that she needed her, and that was all the reason Glinda required. So she turned beneath the blankets and faced Elphie. The green girl was, of course, still awake. She did not sleep at night, instead dozing off on Glinda’s shoulder during the day. The blonde reached up, finding a courage within herself she didn’t know she had, and cupped the green face. She was awarded with a smile—small but genuine, the kind that was reserved, mostly, for Glinda and Glinda alone.

“Elphie…”

Her name was a sigh on soft pink lips, but the blonde said no more. There were no words for her fear, her confusion. There were even less words for the warmth and affection that was filling her now.

There were no words, but there was action. So she shifted forward, feeling smooth skin beneath her fingers, combing her free hand through silky lengths of raven hair, breathing in the scent of pinewood and fresh breeze that hung around her roommate. She was falling through the endless, glowing brown of Elphaba’s eyes, but she felt sure that the green girl was doing the same exact thing.

Her heart and mind had been raging since Ama Clutch’s death. The conversation with Morrible lingered relentlessly at the edge of her thoughts. The past weeks lay behind her, dark and confusing and frightening. The future was even more so. But all of that melted away as steady green arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

The love that she had taken far too long to realize overwhelmed her, and she closed the distance between them…

***

And then Elphaba was gone, walking away across Colwen Grounds. Suddenly, Glinda was losing her all over again. She was back in that carriage, fighting back her tears as Elphie kissed her, called her my sweet, murmured the words that had become a mantra to her. _Hold out, hold out._

She couldn’t do it.

“Oh, Elphie!” she cried, whirling around. But it was too little, too late, and Elphaba did not come back.

Glinda watched the light of the candle, wondering why she had lit it in the first place. It was an old tradition to keep a light in the window when you were expecting a loved one to return home. Parents waiting for their children to come in for the night, lovers sitting in eager anticipation of their reunion, families journeying to visit each other once more.

Who was she calling home tonight, Glinda mused. Who was the moonlight guiding through Oz tonight?

She shifted her eyes to the silvery orb. It was bright, glaring down at her, as if she had done something wrong. She had done many things wrong, of course, but she didn’t know which the moon was accusing her of. Glinda shivered, feeling strangely vulnerable, and stepped back from the window. Her bare feet slid across the floor, moving just outside the beam of light. She knelt down in the darkness, watching the candle melt slowly away.

Too little, too late. They said the Wicked Witch of the West rode a broom around, and that if you could see her pointed hat and flowing cape silhouetted in the moon at night, it was already too late for you. Wicked. Glinda did not know where evil came from, how it manifested, what form it took. That first real conversation with her roommate, the first time Elphaba had been excited around her—you _can_ think!—was one that circulated throughout the land from time to time. But although she, like many others, did not know much about evil or wickedness, she was sure of one thing: it was not Elphaba.

The candle flickered out, and the darkness felt even heavier than before.

Tonight, more than ever, she wished that she _would_ see the silhouette of her old friend. She didn’t know what she would do, what she would say. She only knew that she would not, could not, sleep well while this heart-wrenching distance stood between her and Elphie.

She never slept well again.


End file.
